


His Death Comes Slowly

by AnAceAJokerAndAQueen



Category: MacGyver (TV 1985)
Genre: Fluff, He has self worth issues, It's Okay, Little bit of angst, M/M, Mac needs help, Murdoc is less murdery, Murdoc questioning his decisions, Poor Mac, what are feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-17 07:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAceAJokerAndAQueen/pseuds/AnAceAJokerAndAQueen
Summary: A much needed conversation about one of MacGyver's several self-worth issues.





	1. Chapter 1

Pete sighs, turning away from the bookshelf and back towards his desk. He had gone over to the shelf to pull down a book, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was now. 

“I’m worried about him, but I don’t think now is the time to go after him, Nikki. He…” Pete sighs, crossing his arms. “He needs space. You could help him, certainly, but I don’t want you to put yourself in the situation where you end up blaming yourself for making it worse, you know?” Pete says, and Nikki sags at his words. 

Pete smiles weakly at her. The sharp ache of worry for his friend was flaring again, but Pete did his best to ignore it.

“I know you want to help, but so did I, and all I did was make it worse, I think. Just give him some time Nikki, that’s all that you can do for a wound like that. Give it time.” Pete says quietly, and Nikki nods in silent defeat. 

 

 

Murdoc tilted his head, listen for any sign of him, but finds none. A quick look around, and Murdoc found himself wandering through the living area, noting the trinkets and items filling the otherwise simple house. 

There were limited signs someone had been here, and none from recently. Murdoc swore. 

The blinking light from the landline catches his eyes, and Murdoc listens through the calls one by one.

It seemed that some tragedy had befallen his adversary, and had retreated out to the wilderness to hide from his friends.

It would make it that much easier to end him then, but some small itch left him wondering- where would the fun be in that? 

 

 

Murdoc looks up the road, to the cabin he had tracked MacGyver to. A mention of MacGyver to the storekeeper, and Murdoc and learned from the old man that MacGyver had not been seen for almost two weeks.

A small part of him then had sunk like a stone in despair. If MacGyver was dead… But no, that couldn’t be. MacGyver couldn’t be dead. 

Perhaps that was why he agreed to the feeble suggestion from the old man and took the bag of groceries. 

Murdoc didn’t drive all the way up to the cabin, no, he wasn’t quite so foolish. He didn’t go unarmed either, a simple blade certainly sharp enough to slide right between the ribs and through the heart tucked in his sleeve. 

But the fear of finding MacGyver dead was crippling him, almost to the point of recklessness, and Murdoc took almost no pause when reaching for the door.

Unlocked. The inside was empty and Murdoc couldn’t help but notice the mess of tangled sheets on the bed. Cold to the touch and sweat-drenched. 

Moving to the pantry, and Murdoc finds that the old man was right to give him those goods, there was nothing on the shelves, the pantry bare.

The faint figure out of the kitchen window catches his eye, and Murdoc almost sighs from relief. 

Alive, although one wouldn’t think so from the look of him. Even from this distance, he could see MacGyver’s exhaustion, grief, and anger- the last of which was being directed towards himself. 

It would be pitifully easy to kill him, and Murdoc makes a split-second decision right there. 

MacGyver was his to kill, and he would collect. 

But not now.

For his brilliant mind to be so far gone to be unable to keep up with him wouldn’t be a fair fight, nor would it be entertaining, Murdoc decides.

 

 

Angus hears the sound of a clinking plate from the cabin, but he dismisses it. 

The second time he hears it, he thinks it might be another hallucination, but decides it wasn’t one he wants to be a part of. Not this time.

When he hears it again, he sighs, bone-deep tiredness urging him to stay sitting, but Angus stands up anyways. Perhaps Pete was back again, but Agnus hopes not. 

“Pete, I told ya, I want to be left alo…” Angus trails off upon opening the door.

“Well, it is a good thing I’m not Pete, isn’t it?” A voice calls. A very familiar voice. Stepping out from the other side of the island and Angus swallows. 

“Murdoc.” He says. 

Murdoc smiles, but it’s… Softer somehow. Not as sharp as he remembers it being.

Not that it was going to matter for much longer. 

“Hello, MacGyver.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed conversation about one of MacGyver's several self-worth issues.

Murdoc looks at MacGyver, noting the weary tone of his words, the flatness in his voice. 

And the fact that MacGyver wasn’t going to run from him. 

That was no good. They hadn’t even begun, and MacGyver had already given up. He’d always struggled in the past, and Murdoc could tell that grief weighed heavily upon his mind.

“How did…” MacGyver begins, but trails off, taking a shaky breath.

It doesn’t take long for Murdoc to realize the rest of him is shaking too. 

A cautious step towards MacGyver, and when he doesn’t react, the last few to curl an arm around his bicep and gently urge him to step closer, away from the door and out of the morning cold.

MacGyver does not move away then, standing still against him, his skin cold and no doubt numb to the chill long ago. Murdoc finds it strange, to be able to feel a heartbeat against his chest. 

“If you were truly attempting to hide, it would have been best to not let anyone know where you were.” He says quietly, although the sound of his voice was still louder than any sound around them.

MacGyver breath hitches as he breathes out, and Murdoc realizes that MacGyver was trying very hard not to go into hysterics, and Murdoc himself realized he had no idea what he was doing, doing what felt… well, not good, but right.

“I… I realize that now.” MacGyver says lowly, and Murdoc nods. 

“Well, come on then. I hardly think it thrilling if the cold does you in.” Murdoc says. 

He carefully directs MacGyver to sit on one of the barstools and tugs a blanket around MacGyver’s shoulders.

The water he had started for coffee was boiling, and he pulled the kettle off the burner. He makes up two cups of coffee, taking a sip from one before scooting it across the island towards MacGyver.

MacGyver turns his head to look at him, before looking to the cup.

Murdoc huffs. “I didn’t want you to think it was poisoned.” 

MacGyver drinks it, and Murdoc can tell that he didn’t care either way if it was poisoned or not. 

They sit silence for a few minutes, the silence tense but not unbearable. Still, Murdoc knew that MacGyver had some minuscule interest as to why he was still alive.

Truth be told, so did Murdoc. 

Perhaps it was best if MacGyver didn’t ask him, then.

~~~

Some part of Angus, the inquisitive and restless part of his soul, ached with unvoiced questions of why he was alive- Murdoc not even three feet away from him, calmly sipping a cup of coffee as if it were not an unusual thing to be doing in his company. 

The other part of him, the rest of him still consumed by ‘what if’s’ and ‘what could I’s’, desperately wanted to taunt and tease and goad Murdoc into acting on what he surely came to do, and hunt him.

Perhaps up Widowmaker, chasing him up the mountain until the cliff was too steep and the fall was too great, and be ended by a fall to his death, Murdoc laughing at him as he joined Mike. That sounded like something Murdoc would do.

Instead, he’d brought Angus inside the cabin to warm him up, sitting in seemly contented silence drink a cup of coffee. Even then, he’d tried to assure Agnus, drinking the coffee to prove it hadn’t been poisoned.

As if he would feel anything but pure relief if it was, but the action was an unusual one, even for Murdoc.

Finally, Agnus took a deep breath and spoke.

“Why?” 

“Why what, dear MacGyver?” Murdoc says smoothly, looking up to him as he speaks. He doesn’t look startled, just unprepared for speaking with him.

MacGyver snorts, but it’s humorless. “Why I’m alive, you not five feet from me might be a start,” Agnus asks, but feels strength to keep asking more. “How you found me, although I can already give a guess. Why you’re doing this,” He says, and gestures vaguely to the cup in his hand and the blanket around his shoulders. “And how you think this is going to end.” 

Murdoc smiles softly, not the wild, animal grin he usually wears, but something- calmer. Nicer, but Agnus hesitates to use that word in context with Murdoc, of all people.

“Dear MacGyver, because I don’t want to kill you. Not right now, at least- it would be far too simple. You are, well,” Murdoc pauses, looking at him, “It would be no struggle, and from your first escape from me onwards, I looked forward to what you would try next. You’re in no state to try, nor do I believe that you would even want to try.” 

He looked away out the window, and Agnus tried to figure out what Murdoc meant. So because he wasn’t putting up a fight, Murdoc had simply decided that killing him wasn’t worth it? 

“So I’m not worth it.” Agnus says bitterly, and Murdoc snaps his head back towards him.

“No,” Murdoc hissed angrily, “Because you are worth more alive than dead to anyone who’s ever had the privilege of knowing you, including myself!” He says, growing louder and more visibly upset as he speaks. “I loathe to say it, because it is true, MacGyver! Don’t allow yourself to believe any reason thus that I want nothing but to kill you, but I’ve allowed my… my pride in my perfect record to delude myself!” He growls, and abruptly stands, drawing closer. 

The change in proximity and the anger radiating from Murdoc should be more than enough for Agnus to want to move, but he doesn’t, sitting deathly still, coffee left forgotten on the counter. 

A hand gently tilts his chin up, resting against his jaw. A hand that he knew could surely kill him in a moment, clenching tightly around his throat and squeeze out his final breath. But no, Murdoc only wanted him to look at him, and that was simple enough.

Agnus finally looks up, staring what surely could be his death in the eyes.

Through the anger, Agnus is surprised to find both genuine fondness and concern, both of which he is startled by.

“MacGyver,” Murdoc says softly, “I would never kill you.” A thumb brushes the edge of his jaw, and Agnus stares blankly in muted confusion.

“I chase you, because your brilliant mind allows you to escape my every effort, and in truth I am thrilled every time you escape me,” He says slowly, a hint of awe in his voice. “Never have my attempts truly been personal, regardless of what I have lead you to believe before. Not truly.” 

Murdoc sighs, gently leaning his forehead against his own, eyes still upon his own, the breath of his sigh brushing against his cheeks.

“I want you to believe me, when I tell you that you are worth it. This self-hatred and grief you have allowed yourself to wallow in will kill you, and I’m not going to stand by and watch it happen, MacGyver.” Murdoc says, drawing away. 

Agnus feels confusion at the loss of the warm presence invading his space, watching as Murdoc walks back around the counter.

Crossing his arms, Murdoc leans across the counter from him.

“So if you need to be away from your friends, that’s fine. But don’t push me, MacGyver, because I will push back until you drop from exhaustion.” He says with a smirk. “But until you’re ready to return to your life and whatever assignment dear Pete is willing to send your way, MacGyver, I. Will. Be. Right. Here.” Murdoc says, emphasizing his words with a tap of his finger against the counter.

“...Okay.” MacGyver says, and thinks he might just believe him.


End file.
